Noise noise noise noise

I finally put pictures of the Christmas tree up. They're at my Flickr site, which you can link to from the bookmark over on the right. The one that says "My Photos."

I spent most of this past weekend with family members, especially many small children. And some not so small children. I know this is something everyone says, to the point of sounding trite and cliched, but kids really grow up fast. I have a mental picture in my mind of my step-brother changing my niece's diaper on the floor of my father and step-mother's house on Christmas eve. I can here all the sounds and conversation going on around me, I can smell the food that was being served in the kitchen, and most of all I can remember thinking how silly she looked getting her diaper changed. She was just kind of looking up at my step-brother and waiting for him to be finished (she was probably about two and wasn't going to be in diapers too much longer). I don't remember the exact year, but it had to have been well over ten years ago because I saw her yesterday at my step-sister's house and she is three inches taller than me (in heels) and a sophomore in high school.

Having the chaos of children around reminded me of something I though of in church a couple of weeks ago. The Episcopal parish I go to does Sunday school in the parish hall up to the point in the service where the congregation exchanges the peace of Christ. As we shake hands and get ready for the Eucharistic part of the liturgy, the kids pour in and join their parents in the pews. They help with the collection, and then generally buzz and hum about until the end of the service. This means that while the vicar is telling the story of the Eucharist, and blessing the bread and wine, and during the recitation of the Lord's prayer, there is a lot of giggling, chattering, wandering, and occasional squalling going on. The more experienced parishioners make no attempt to hush or huddle their children.

I can imagine some parents going crazy with this type of activity going on during what is the most solemn and important part of the service, and I have often imagined a kind of dialogue in my head between a more strict parent and the parents of St. John's. Two things occurred to me, which made it clear that not only does this method of dealing with restless children in church not do any harm, it adds something very useful to the experience.

First is what the distraction of children's voices and footsteps during the Eucharist provides for adults. It is a challenge of sorts. We are constantly distracted and preoccupied in our daily lives, and yet Christ (or God or whatever your flavor of faith is) expects us to stay focused. We acknowledge the distractions, we deal with what we have to, but we get our minds back on the task at hand and stay connected to our faith. If we concentrate and find balance in our minds, we will hear the most important parts of the message of faith through the din of the everyday world.

The second realization I had concerned the children themselves, and my response to someone who felt that they should be compelled to pay attention during the service. The benefit children get from going to church, especially very young children, is hardly in the specific lessons and words they hear there. What is most important is the model of behavior they see being set by the adults around them. If they are being scolded by parents who are focusing more on being in control than they are on the transcendence of the moment, they won't come away from the churchgoing experience with any sense of the peace and reassurance that regular worship brings. After all, how many kids who were forced to attend church every Sunday throughout their childhood abandoned it the moment they had the freedom to? And how much good is it doing for those people who go only because it was programmed into them?

After spending the last two days surrounded by tumbling, chattering, squawking, crying, laughing and questioning voices, I have reached a sort of indifference to it. Not an indifference to the kids, but an ability to squelch the noise and filter the distractions and not lose my mind. I imagine this is what most parents learn to do, eventually. When I think of all the adults in my life when I was a child, I am amazed at what they accomplished while my brother or cousins or friends and I were raising a ruckus. They carried on conversations, played card games, read books, watched television and a host of other things. You must just get used to it after a while.